


The Truth in Dreaming

by OpheliaUpdyke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Homophobia, Light BDSM, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-War, Rimming, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Sexual Roleplay, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaUpdyke/pseuds/OpheliaUpdyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Harry gets an ultimatum from Ginny, cultivates a strange new nocturnal habit, looks up people with whom he never should have lost contact, and finally figures out a few things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ginny Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pathosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathosis/gifts).



On a sunny Saturday in mid-June, on the front porch at the Burrow, Harry stood facing her, hands in his pockets, not knowing what to say or do to make the situation any better. Ginny really was a beauty, Harry suddenly thought. Even teary and as angry as she was with him right now, there was a softness to her face and warm brown eyes.

 

Somehow her hair was getting more red these days than it ever used to be. Now, it was startlingly bright instead of the soft ginger of her childhood. It was more like his mum's hair looked in photographs. Gin's figure too was just amazing. She was tall, at least an inch or two taller than him in fact, and lean with long fit arms and legs. She had small perky breasts and slim hips. She definitely took after the men in the family more than Molly. Harry wondered again why she never wore any of the make-up, jewelry, or new robes that she had picked out and he had bought for her since the end of Voldemort.

"You said you'd marry me after auror training!"

"No, I said I couldn't marry you while I was in auror training-"

"-Yes, you said that, and then you quit anyway!"

Harry tried to gather his thoughts, staring past her over the tall grass in front of the Burrow. He loved it here. He always had. Several lemon yellow butterflies chased each other around a mossy fallen log. Then the fat, slow bumblebees buzzing in the clover caught his eye. He could never see them without thinking of Dumbledore. He took a deep breath wondering why all his conversations with Ginny had gotten so difficult after the war.

 

"It wasn't- right for me, I guess. I finally realized I'd be putting myself up against dodgy head cases, every day at work. I'm done with that, Gin. I still don't know what I do want to do-" A loud wet sniff caused him lose his train of thought and reflexively cringe. He turned to her again, feeling completely impotent, but needing to help somehow. "I'm sorry."

"Oh Harry! You said you loved me!"

"I do love you."

"Not enough to marry me, you don't!"

Gods, she was tearing up again. Harry removed his hands from his pockets finally and opened his arms to offer her a Gods, he really needed a hair cut, too. Why couldn't he focus? He tried to think of how he could make all of this all right somehow; but his mind felt tired, distracted, and like it really didn't want to think about any of this right now.

 

He'd do anything for her, of course, apart from getting down on one knee. Merlin, he just couldn't do that right now. Try explaining that to her then, he thought. Harry felt certain that Ginny would understand, if he could just find the right words, somehow. Finally Harry said, "I- I'm not ready. Not just yet. I need to work out things, like what I'm going to do with my life, before I, you know, can think about settling down with you and starting a family, and then worrying about our kids when they come along and all. You can understand that. Can't you?"

"No! What difference does it make? I'll marry you whether you're a Quidditch player or the Minister of Magic. Oh honestly Harry! You don't even need to work!"

"Yes, I do. I need work. Not for the money, maybe, but for purpose, something productive to do with myself. I can't be permanently retired at nineteen with nothing good to show for my life beyond- beyond a really great family and having killed somebody."

"Slytherins are supposed to be ambitious!"

Yeah, those evil gits, but not us good little Gryffindors, Harry heard. Was it really all that ambitious not to want to rest on one dead guy and Harry's otherwise meager school laurels for the rest of his life? He conjured a wrinkled but otherwise presentable handkerchief out of his pocket lint and held it out to her.

 

Ginny wrinkled her nose and wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her old, much patched, blue cotton robes that made her look almost boyish and even younger than she was. She clenched her jaw in that way that let everyone who knows her know that she is dead serious, not to mention furious. Then she stomped her booted foot hard. "Merlin's saggy arse, Harry Potter! I'm so tired of arguing with you!"

"So let's not argue any more. All right?"

"Six weeks from today or then I'm done. I'm not waiting around- here," she waved her arms to indicate the Burrow or maybe England or maybe just in his presence, "-a single day longer for you to pull your head out, find your high and mighty life's purpose, and propose to me," she then finished up by bringing her voice down to a hissing whisper, as if it had just dawned on her that her that whole family was listening to her, "with a big, bloody obviously expensive ring! You hear me? And, you're not getting any more sex, either! Maybe going without will give you some incentive marry me, already."

It was better than he expected, honestly. Harry had been sure when she got started that she was dumping him for Dean Thomas again. He wasn't even sure whether that would have been so terrible. He doubted six weeks would make a difference. On the other hand, he knew from experience that a lot could change in a lot less time. "Fair enough."

"Fine. Ron and George are in back garden clearing out gnomes. Go make yourself useful to somebody around here."

"Ginny-"

"No, Harry! I can't stand to look at you right now!"

 

Harry frowned and took one last glance before wading out into the high grass amongst the bumblebees pollinating the clover flowers. He'd barely taken two steps when something bit or stung his calf. He gave it a swat and rolled up his pants leg to have a look. A patch of skin was a bit pink but his skin didn't look broken. He did pick his pace up a bit after that.

 

" 'lo Ron, George. Were you wanting some help with gnome control back here? I think one of the blighters nipped me."

"Could hear Ginny's shrieking from here, mate. Still on at you about tying the knot, is she?"

"She gave me six weeks to get my priorities in order."

"Blimey, that's big of her."

"At least our Harry isn't sporting bats out every orifice yet, little brother!"

"Point George. Oi Harry, your six!"

Harry turned, kicked, and sent the gnome sneaking up behind him sailing over the fence before it could bite or before it could bite him again as the case may be. The hunt continued with Ron bringing him up to speed on all the fun he was missing in auror training and with George telling him about the new products hitting the shelves at the Wheezes.

 

That evening Molly served roast beef with Yorkshire pud, mash, thick gravy, three veg, and crabapple tarts with cinnamon crumble on top for afters. Ginny ate in her room, claiming a funny tummy. No one believed her enough to make her take a stomach potion. All in all, it wasn't such a terrible day.

____________

 

That night at Grimmauld Place, as Harry was about to read the first chapter in an auror text on defensive theory that he never got round to reading whilst in training, the floo flared and out stepped Severus Snape. Those months of rest and recovery after Nagini's attack had de-aged the man considerably. Snape now looked basically the same as he had during Harry's early school days, still not handsome by any stretch, but no longer knocking loudly and insistently on Death's door, either.

 

Harry stood and set the book down. "Um. Hi. Good to see you again, sir. To what do I owe the visit? How's everything at Hogwarts?"

Snape seemed to take Harry speaking to him as invitation to move into Harry's personal space. "Potter." Snape said finally after staring at him for a long rather uncomfortable moment (at least for Harry.) "Nothing is amiss at the school. I was informed that you needed to see me. Were you not expecting my visit this evening?"

"Expecting you? Not really, no. You were told I needed to see you by who-?"

"By whom. It hardly matters though. I am here now and for your benefit. Did you wish me to leave instead?" Snape looked amused and Harry couldn't think THAT could ever be a good thing.

"No! Would you like to sit down? Can I offer you some tea? I mean, I could make some. Would you prefer a scotch, or something?

Snape had taken another step and was standing far too close now, looking in Harry's eyes now as if he were researching the effects of some poison Harry had just ingested. "Or something? Why yes."

"Sorry, what was it that you wanted?"

"You, for a start."

Harry took a step back, his eyes opening wide in disbelief behind his glasses. "You want-?"

"Yes, Potter, I. Want. You." Snape's long elegant hands stroked over the fabric of Harry's favorite soft purple henley, one lingering on his flat stomach for a moment then gliding down to fondle the rather interested bulge in his dove grey flat-fronts that Harry hadn't realized was there until now.

"Do you have any objections?" Snape gave him a squeeze.

"Um? No?"

Snape inched forward and, well, not smiled exactly, more like he curled his lips back rather menacingly. He let go of Harry's bulge and took Harry into his long wiry arms in a, for lack of a better description, wrestling hold. "Are you asking me or telling me, Potter?" Snape said softly in THAT voice. The one that could boil the snow off of Scotland in mid-January.

Harry stopped his half-arsed struggling and melted against Snape's body. "Oh gods, no I don't think I have any problem with this- uh."

"Shut it, so I can pry open your mouth with my tongue." Harry did close his gaping mouth as soon as his brain re-engaged. Then Snape went about prying it open again.

 

Being kissed by Snape was absolutely nothing like kissing Ginny, or Cho, or that pink-haired Muggle girl whose name he can't remember. For one thing, Snape was taller and far stronger than most women and consequently a lot harder to get away from, not that Harry was trying all that hard or at all really. Neither Ginny nor Cho nor the Muggle with pink hair kissed Harry like she was fucking his mouth but using her tongue in order to do it. Snape's kiss-fucking was intense and delicious, plus made Harry think about fucking in general which was hot. It was even hotter when Snape grabbed Harry's shapely arse and pulled Harry flush against his body managing to plant one knee between Harry's legs in the process. Therefore, the kiss was a bit like fucking, but getting pulled to and fro during the kiss was a lot like, well, exactly like frotting Snape's thigh. Harry was so turned on that he was dizzy and seeing spots of various colors floating around in his field of vision whether or not his eyes were open.

"After you come for me, like my good little bottom boy, I'm going to tongue-fuck your tight virgin hole until you beg me to shove my cock inside it- Harry."

Harry came hard and woke shaking, sitting bolt upright in bed. He hadn't had a wet dream since his voice changed and had never had one of that magnitude. He certainly had never had a wet dream involving Severus Snape, of all people, not even back in those days when he saw Snape every single day and when even a draft in that castle gave Harry a raging stiffy.  
With a wave, he made his wet and sticky sheets dry and pristine again. "Gods on a biscuit that was-" What was that exactly? Scary? Brilliant? Sexy? Insane? Harry settled for, "-unexpected." He couldn't get another wink of sleep that night though, but thought long and hard about Severus Snape for the first time in a good long while.

_________________

 

The next night, Harry got home quite late and in a foul mood. He was coming in from his usual Sunday night Muggle pub jaunt with Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Neville. Right as Harry was about to buy the last round, Dean took him aside to ask Harry if he minded about Dean's getting together with Ginny again.

So, in other words, Harry doing without until he proposed didn't mean that Ginny intended to forego having an active and healthy sex life for so much as a whole day, apparently. Well, it was all Harry's fault that Ginny wasn't married to him already he supposed. As such, he had no claims on her fidelity, or at least that was basically what he managed to tell Dean using thoroughly grown-up, civilized tones, because SURE Harry could be an adult about this whilst just finding out from bloody Dean.

Dean lit up like Yule had come early and told Harry he was the Wiz. The whole Ginny Thing got to Harry the more he thought about it. By the time he'd made it home again, he was in a proper sulk, even though he still wore a slightly blasé smile pasted on his face.


	2. Single Malt Scotch

Harry stared restlessly at the ceiling for what felt like forever that night and into the next morning with the Ginny Thing eating away at him. He finally was drifting off when he heard a strange noise from down stairs. After listening for a moment in the dark, whilst totally nude and clutching his wand, Harry decided to investigate. He pulled on his tatty Gryffindor red bath robe that Sirius had bought for him that no longer completely covered his chest or even reached his knees, stepped into his trainers, and apparated downstairs in the dark. He paused in the kitchen to listen again. He hadn't heard anything else, but something felt off. The hair standing on the back of his neck and tightness in his gut were both telling him that there was someone else in the house. In the library, Harry found a fire in the hearth and one Severus Snape, sitting in Harry's favorite chair, drinking what smelt to be Harry's 18 Year old Laphroaig.

"So, I'm asleep and just dreaming that you're here again. Right?"

"Potter, when you are awake, I should hope you have the good sense to know that I have better things to do with my time than to break into Black's old ruin to drink all your single malt scotch."

"Actually you wouldn't have had to break in here. The warding is back to the same as it was during my fifth year. Any order member can come and go. There are plenty of spare rooms. Most of you never come to use them anymore is all. Anyway, I offered you that drink when I thought you were really here. I could hardly blame you for helping yourself now that I know that you aren't."

"You can continue boring your long-time welcome visitor, who isn't here, with even more inane chatter or may come kneel between my legs, unbutton my fly, and suck me off enthusiastically just as a truly entertaining host might do. In case you can't decide which course to follow, you may ask which I would prefer."

"Why am dreaming about you? I haven't seen you since- gods, I can't remember when last!"

"Diagon Alley, nearly a year ago. You were shopping for Longbottom's hideous birthday trinket with that Weasley chit in tow. I looked tall, dark, and mysterious as if I were on my way to a secret rendezvous. We exchanged the usual unpleasantries."

"That's right! I remember that now. Where were you headed anyway?"

"None of your business. Knees, sucking, now, Potter. I don't have all night."

"You do, though. You, my dearest nightmare, are a rather vivid figment of my over-active imagination." Harry smiled, knelt, and reached for Snape's fly.

"No. You will undo the buttons and open my fly using only your mouth."

"Sure, why not?" But first, Harry rested his hands gently on Dream Snape's knees and pressed his face directly into his crotch, breathing deeply his heat and musk and nuzzling the hard cock constrained by the soft black wool. After a bit of friendly teasing using his lips, teeth, and nose, Harry got down to business, biting off small black buttons and spitting them out into Snape's upturned hand resting on the arm of Harry's chair.

"Charming manners, Potter, as always."

When the last button was gnawed off and spat out, Harry bit the fabric covering Snape's left knee and tugged until Snape's trousers pooled around his ankles.

"Commando!"

"Indeed."

Dream Snape's cock was an entirely unimpressive five inches long, circumcised, pale, and unremarkably narrow except for the reddish head glistening with need and pre-come. Harry took a taste and found that the pearl of liquid on offer there was pleasantly bitter, therefore quite different from the man himself, but not unlike strong coffee the bitterness of which Harry had grown to appreciate. "Ummm!"

"Plenty more where that came from should you decide to put forth your best effort." Snape slouched down in the chair, arched his back, stepped his right foot out of his trousers, spread his knees wide, and took another sip of great scotch.

The fact that Harry had never actually done this with another male didn't slow him down in the least. He knew what he liked in the way of oral sex and knew what he probably would like if he had the nerve to talk someone else into giving it to him. Mostly though, he just sucked hard as he could, bobbing rhythmically, and teasing the slit, tip, and underside with his tongue.

"Yes Harry, that's it. Swallow me down to the root like my good little cock-hungry bottom boy. You do realize that my todger in real life is probably at least twice the size of this non-descript, non-threatening model which your puny mind conjured in order to fellate more easily?"

Snape angled his right foot just so and dragged the crisply tied laces of his extra long, black, straight laced leather Balmoral under the hem of Harry's terry robe roughly caressing Harry's dangly bits. Then he pressed the bottom of his leather sole against Harry's eager cock. Harry came whilst swallowing down Snape's load, then woke with drool all over his face and damp sheets sticking to his private parts. He stayed awake just long enough to perform all the necessary cleaning charms, fluff his pillows, and turn over onto his side.

When he re-entered the dream, Snape was still sitting with his trousers down, still sipping Harry's fine aged scotch. This was nice, Harry thought. He knew he was dreaming and that nothing that he did or said here could royally bugger up his real life. That realization and the sheer unbelievabilty of the scene were freeing, somehow.

Harry grabbed the glass from Snape's hand and scrambled up into Snape's naked lap facing him. Harry settled himself on the man's knees and took a sip of Snape's drink only to be disappointed by the taste of a dreamt-up version of the real thing.

That was what this Snape was too, Harry thought- just a pale imitation of the classic original. Harry wondered why his mind couldn't recreate the flavor of the Laphroaig even though he knew exactly what it should taste like, but could so perfectly manufacture him this Severus Snape who was a whole lot more complicated than anything that could fit in a glass. Weirdly enough, Snape, here in his dream-life, was way more vibrant and alive somehow than he had ever seemed to be, to Harry at least, in Harry's real life. Not that the man didn't compel his imagination. He always had, usually to Harry's detriment and deception.

He leaned forward and tasted Dream Snape's lips which opened to receive him. Here Harry's tongue found what he had been searching for and hadn't found in the glass- that inexplicable combination of a marmalade, tarragon, and kipper butty served up with with lashings of raw leather, peat, and fire- all the disparate flavors comprising the somehow harmonious experience of sipping an 18 year old Laphroaig.

Snape took the glass back and reached out with his other hand to stroke Harry's hair. "I'd take an Islay single malt over any other."

"You have good taste, Snape."

"Mmm."

"I like compliments too, you know." Unsurprisingly, Harry endured a bit of a wait getting one.

"You taste good," Snape said finally, looking put out by the effort.

"Hey, I have good taste too!"

"Do you?"

"You like my scotch."

"Oh very well, your taste in scotch is- acceptable."

Harry didn't want to mention that Minerva gave him his first bottle for his eighteenth birthday. Snape probably knew already anyway. He honestly did love the stuff now, though. "Well, that's a start. Isn't it?" Harry leaned forward onto the soft wool covering Snape's shoulder and closed his eyes. He sighed loving the warmth and solidness of Snape's body and the feel of Snape's long fingers carding through his hair. "I wish we could really spend time together like this."

"Perhaps, we can, Potter. Don't you wonder why suddenly all that you seem to be dreaming about is me? Wet dreams too and after all this time? I enjoy a good mystery. Why don't you seek me out and ask me for my help in this matter?"

"Come on! If I told you about- all of this, I'd finish what Nagini started. You'd die laughing at me!"

"Oh, I may make fun of you, humiliate you, insult your intelligence a bit for good measure. I might even lure your puerile fantasies and toned arse into my bed. Eventually though, I'd get around to the part where I save you again, somehow. What do you have to lose, really?"

"You must think I'm thick as plank and a total masochist on top of it all."

"A Gryffindor, are you not? Speaking of which, were you implying that you lack the courage to seek me out in real life?"

"Well, seeking you out, that isn't such a bad idea, maybe. But I certainly am never mentioning any of this though. It's beyond mad!"

"Suit yourself."


	3. Lack of Sleep

 

On Monday, Harry was up around six feeling like he hadn't slept for days. It seemed that Dream Snape was intent on commandeering his every available REM cycle for wild sexual purposes that left Harry pleasantly sated but sore and exhausted all the same.  
 

Harry savored some tea and toast thinking hard about contacting Snape, the real Snape. Oh gods!

 

But, it could be purely a social call of some sort, to catch up with an old- what? Enemy? Meanest Teacher Ever? Dungeon Mascot? Thoroughly Anti-social Bastard? Harry decided Long-time Acquaintance or Comrade-in-Arms was about as chummy as he could make their past interactions sound. So, WHY WAS Harry having hot sex with him every bloody time his eyes closed lately?

  
It was already ten before Harry worked up the nerve to put quill to parchment, and past 11 before he authored and recopied:

 

 

Dear Professor Snape,

I hope you are well and that your current students  
are not as big a bunch of dunderheads as usual.  
The reason I am writing is to ask if you might let me  
treat you to a lunch one day soon, either at the 3Bs  
or at a place of your choosing. I'd offer to host you  
here at the old gang's house but doubt you would  
risk my cooking.  
  
My owl is named Humphrey. You might need to send  
another owl even though I am going to ask him to wait  
for your reply. He is new and quite possibly not very  
bright. Aside from the absolute basics, he doesn't often  
do what he is told. I can almost hear you thinking, that  
I found an owl just like me.  
  
Really hoping to see you soon, anyway.  
  
Sincerely, Harry Potter

 

Harry had worked himself up into a state and cleaned his kitchen and bathrooms the Muggle way. He was fixing a leaky pipe with magic when, half four, Harry's green-eyed Great Horned Owl returned with a reply. Harry took a deep breath. He felt his heart pounding inside his chest. How crazy was it that a simple note from Snape, no doubt telling him to piss off, felt this all-important?

 

P.  
   
Your handwriting is still atrocious.  
  
Will meet at The Greenhouse in Mayfair on Saturday  
at 11:30. Reserve table in advance. Dress code is   
well-dressed Muggle. Arrive on time.  
  
Confirm your stupid bird has not dropped this in  
the Black Lake.  
  

 

Harry had never heard of the place but was immediately suspicious. He left his plumbing leaking slightly less than it had then quickly reinstated the spell that returned escaping water to the pipe. He dressed appropriately and apparated to an alley near a Muggle gym where Harry held a membership. He used the phone there to call Snape's restaurant. He managed to book the reservation for Snape's specified day and time, thank goodness. Since he was there anyway, Harry decided to work off his excess energy for a while, which turned out to be a little over two hours.

 

When he returned that evening to Grimmauld Place, he showered then fire-called Hermione. She had heard of the restaurant of course, because well, what didn't Hermione Granger know at least something about? She said it was super-expensive, French nouvelle, and supposedly very good.

 

He had to smile at the expensive part. He couldn't blame Snape for getting something nice out of his time wasted on Harry. It was certainly the Slytherin thing to do.

 

For his part, Harry definitely could afford it. He really didn't mind spending a bit of his vaults to show Snape a good time. In fact, he was rather sorry he hadn't thought of doing something like this for Snape a long time before now.

 

Next, Harry fire-called Justin Finch-Fletchley who knew more about dressing in general than just about anyone else he knew, outside of the Malfoy family, and knew more about Muggle style than any other ten wizards Harry could name all put together. Justin was so thrilled that Harry had asked him to come shopping with him that Harry wondered if Justin might not have an old crush on him. Harry certainly didn't want to lead him on at all.

  
  
He was careful to make it clear that Harry needed help shopping for a fancy Muggle-style lunch date that he was scheduled for on Saturday. By the time he said goodbye, and see you tomorrow, he hadn't told Justin exactly where he was going or that he was going there with Snape. He had conveyed clearly that Harry's date was a person of great importance to him and was in no way secretly Justin.

 

Before he made himself dinner, Harry wrote the following note and sent it along with Humphrey:

 

Dear Professor Snape,  
  
Here is proof my owl isn't quite as stupld as he looks.  
It's a date. Made the reservation and will attempt to  
follow the rest of your instructions to the best of my  
abilities. I look forward to seeing you Saturday at 11:30.  
  
Asking him to wait for a reply in case you'd like to  
send one. We'll see how well Humphrey copes.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
Harry Potter

 

That night, he ended up in bed with Harry without either of them having any idea how Dream Snape had got there. It was a dream though; so it really didn't matter.

  
'Waking' to find Snape's body curled against his back was surprisingly comfortable. Snape's hand over Harry's heart, and Snape's long nose against his ear felt really good to Harry, too. So much so, in fact, that Harry was starting to wonder if he might not be bisexual, or something. Not that having sex in a dream really counts for much, but so far the fact that he was having it off with Dream Snape wasn't putting him off the idea at all. "You know, it is kind of weird."  
  
"What is, as you say, weird, Potter?" Snape's voice was rich, smooth, and dark like melted chocolate.  
  
"Ginny is sleeping with Dean again; AND I have have a date with you next Saturday."  
  
"Miss Weasley sleeping with Mr. Thomas can hardly be considered weird. She has gotten more cock from him than she's had from you, at this point."  
  
"True that, but I asked you to lunch; AND you accepted; AND Ginny is fucking Dean again; AND she still expects me to marry her in six weeks."  
  
"That is stupidity, not weirdness."  
  
"Which part?"  
  
"Very likely, every part."  
  
Harry sighed. "I don't know why she wants to marry me, anyway, honestly."  
  
"Why would you wish to marry her?"  
  
"See, I really don't, though. I know I'm nowhere near ready to BE married to anybody. I haven't dated anyone else except for her, really, other than that one awful date with Cho. Then there was that one time that wasn't even an actual date with- Gods, I wish I could remember her name."  
  
"Lucy, the pink-haired Muggle wonder."  
  
"You're right! Her name was Lucy! Thanks! Anyway, I don't feel like I know enough about anything yet. I don't even have much of a plan for my future. Killing Voldemort and not dying until then, that was about as far ahead in my future plan as I could ever see. I guess I never expected that I'd outlive the war."  
  
"You are not alone in that."  
  
"Both of us very nearly didn't, too, outlive the war, I mean. Thanks by the way, for telling me to go seek you out in real life. It was a brilliant idea. I'm really looking forward to eating with you at that posh Muggle restaurant!"  
  
"So just how do you intend to thank me for my brilliant idea, Potter?"  
  
"Thought I just did, really."  
  
"Actions speak louder than words. Being a Cryffindor, surely you must have heard."  
  
"Fair enough. How do you feel about getting thanked with a lazy Monday night sixty-nine, then?"  
  
"Our soixante-neuf had better not be that lazy; or you'll find that I bite."  
  
"No doubt your bite is a whole lot worse than your bark too, Mister Actions-Speak-Louder-Than-Words Brilliant-Idea-Bloke."  
  
"There may be more opportune times to test that theory than whilst your cock is nestled delicately between my teeth."

"I'll say." Harry turned to face Dream Snape, then brushed his lips against Snape's lips. Then he settled his open mouth gently against Snape's and started to explore the sharp, crooked teeth, the clever tongue, and pouty bottom lip. Snape rolled on top and turned on the bed while still kissing him, first right way round, then sideways, and then finally upside down.

  
  
Now Snape's kisses migrated farther south inch by torturous inch over Harry's strong neck and buff chest and washboard stomach until reaching his final destination. The heat of Snape's breath on Harry's cock made Harry's whole being hurt with need.  
  
"Please!"  
  
"That is a very pleasant word. Unfortunately, only pleasant actions will be recognized and reciprocated at this time."  
  
Harry opened his eyes and "Oh!" realized that Dream Snape's slow crawl had placed his cock directly above Harry's mouth. Harry wasn't worried about the fact that this was anatomically improbable since Snape was roughly half a foot taller than him. He raised up and took Dream Snape's stiff, utterly unimpressive cock into his mouth and not just because he knew, oh gods yeah! Not just because he had known that Snape would reciprocate as soon as he did.

 

This was something else that had never felt so right with Ginny. Harry never felt that he possessed any degree of expertise at giving her oral sex. Frankly, he was never sure of what he was meant to be doing down there. It was all a bit like playing Battleship, which was one of his cousin's few games that Dudley ever had asked Harry to play. In both cases, Harry would take his best guess and hope that he was hitting something important.

 

He knew, theoretically, what a clitoris was, of course- well, at least in the vague sort of way one can know without having one. Harry was never sure whether he ever found hers or not. The fact that Ginny had let him give her oral sex more than once made him believe (quite possibly falsely) that he hadn't been completely pants at it that first time. So, on subsequent occasions, Harry tried to do basically the same things again but also attempted to explore a little bit more of the unknown territory down there. Of course, Harry was never going to admit any of this to anyone, certainly not to Ginny, nor to a mate, and not even to Dream Snape, who he was pretty sure wouldn't think any less of him for it, nor tell anybody obviously, nor even care at all, beyond having a really good laugh at Harry's expense.

 

Having his cock in Dream Snape's mouth while Harry had his mouth similarly occupied with Dream Snape's cock was like the completion of a Muggle circuit that caused a little bulb to light. It was obvious when everything was working. There was no fear, no confusion, and no constant second guessing.

 

It was also a bit like banter between two best mates. There was an ease, a natural progression, give and take. With Snape he knew when he was giving as good as he got, not that it particularly mattered, because this all felt great- and beyond any question, entirely wholesome and gloriously right. Even Snape's sharp crooked teeth felt good in this context in small doses, like short sharp shocks to his system whenever things became a little too comfortable and complacent. Not that Harry was giving Snape's 'bite" any encouragement, mind.

 

When Harry's orgasm was imminent, he felt Dream Snape let go of his own self-control. Snape filled Harry's mouth at the exact same moment that Harry came down Snape's throat. Seconds later, Snape righted himself again and kissed his mouth sweetly before Harry woke up.

 

_______________

 

Early on Tuesday morning, he apparated to the poshest bit of London. He checked out Snape's restaurant in Mayfair and got a look at the menu and wine list. Now Harry felt somewhat prepared for his date on Saturday, or at least for finding the place, ordering, and paying.

　

Harry did some window shopping in the area and found a couple interesting places to which he wanted to return and explore properly. He tried on clothing at a couple of shops, too, but didn't find anything that both looked and felt right.

 

At ten, Harry apparated to Justin's new home in Kensington. Harry got to meet Justin's Muggle partner Talbot, their two cats Beckham and Spice, and their very precocious two year old daughter Bettany Finch-Fletchley-Fleming. Then, Justin and Harry apparated to the first of about twenty places that Justin thought might have things that Harry needed.

 

The first stop was Justin's Saville Row tailor, where Harry was measured for a lovely green grey, light-weight bespoke Muggle suit that Justin assured him would be perfect for the summer. Somehow Justin talked his tailor into having it ready for Harry by Saturday morning, too.

 

Along the way, Harry also bought some dress shirts, two ties, shoes, casual separates and a few odd accessories to spruce up and update his rather meager Muggle wardrobe. It was a very pleasant and productive day, which wasn't spoiled by Justin's friendly curiosity.

 

To thank him, Harry got little Bettany a Muggle wooden block set a bit advanced for her age that came complete with arches, columns, domes and minarets, all in fantastic colors. Harry would have loved to have had something like it when he had been her age.

 

He also took Justin to lunch at Launceston Place. In the end, Harry had promised that, yes, they would get together again soon and that yes, he would tell Justin about his mystery date just as soon as Harry felt comfortable enough. Justin, Harry felt certain, had worked it out that Harry's big date was male, but not which male, which suited Harry just fine.

 

When Harry arrived home, Humphrey was outside perched on the balcony off Harry's bedroom beside a Great Grey with huge orange eyes and a note.

 

P.  
  
Received. Your bird did not wait.

Do not spoil Brian. I mean it.  
  
S.

  
Harry traced his finger over Snape's S and saved the note. He gave both owls treats, fresh water, and head scratches. "Forgot to wait again, Humphrey boy? Never mind. Just try harder to remember next time. All right? Brian, while you are here, maybe you could give Humphrey some pointers? Oh, you are a love, Brian. Yes! Yes you are! Would you boys like a couple more treats?" Brian was spoilt rotten by the time he carried back Harry's message:

 

Dear Professor Snape,  
  
See you on Saturday. I'll be the short bloke who looks lost.  
  
Yours, Harry Potter

  
Tuesday night, Harry was fast asleep at half eight. They kissed and held each other for quite a long while. Later in their night together, Snape finally made good on his threat to tongue Harry's tight virgin arse until Harry gagged for it and begged for a merciful fucking. He certainly did beg for one at least. However, Snape didn't find him worthy of getting to ride his completely average cock like an American wild west hero. Instead he taught Harry how to play the rusty trombone, which Harry and Snape both enjoyed playing and having played quite a bit.

 

_________________

 

Harry woke up at ten on Wednesday feeling completely knackered. After brunch, Harry spent a good chunk of time brewing up a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion. As much as he was enjoying all the kinky dream sex he was getting, he needed some actual sleep in order to function. He hit the gym in the afternoon even though it was right up there with the very last thing he wanted to do. Harry was back in bed and magically asleep by five in the afternoon. If Dream Snape did show up that night, Harry couldn't remember a thing that they did together.


	4. Anticipation

As soon as his eyes opened, Harry felt a pang of loneliness and loss at having slept the night away instead of spending it with Dream Snape. On the plus side, he was wide awake at just before seven on Thursday morning and was feeling like a genuine human being again.

 

Harry left the house still early. He stopped by Justin's tailor for a fitting just as they were opening, as scheduled.

 

At ten, he met Hermione who had a day off from whatever it was that she did for the Ministry as an Unspeakable but couldn't talk about. The Department of Mysteries had snapped her up right after the war. As far as Harry could tell she found whatever she was doing there rewarding. There was a calm, a sort of radiant tranquility about her now, that she never had while at Hogwarts, worrying about classes, OWLS, and NEWTS, or during the war, worrying about him and Ron. He knew for a fact that, as impossible as it seemed, she and Ron didn't argue much at all anymore.

 

Hermione still enjoyed exploring a good bookstore. Harry had come across a pretty cool looking Muggle one in Mayfair specializing in antiquarian books whilst scouting out Snape's restaurant. He watched her face walking into Peter Harrington. It was like watching a first year noticing the magic ceiling in the Great Hall for the first time.

 

Since this was totally for Hermione, Harry let her wander on her own and tried to find ways to amuse himself for, oh. the next hour or so at very least. He had lost track of time and was so bored he was looking at the art hanging on the walls in there, when Hermione finally popped up behind him.

"Did you find anything?" he whispered, which he always did when around this many books due to years of Hermione's and Madame Pince's conditioning, no doubt.

"Yes! I also want one of everything that I didn't buy!"

"That's going to make finding presents for you easier, then!" Harry whispered back.

 

They exited the shop and walked hand in hand window shopping the little stores and cafes that they passed. They finally stopped at The Mayfair Chippy to have a lunch sitting out at the little table just off the sidewalk under a nice bit of shade. They were just finishing up their excellent fish and chips when Hermione said, "Ron tells me that Ginny gave you a six week reprieve. Did you want to talk about it?"

Harry cringed a bit because he couldn't help it. "Um. Do I have to?"

"No! I'm not being a nosy cow, honestly! I just wish that Ginny wasn't putting you under so much pressure."

"Right? You'd think she had an expiration date like Muggle salad cream."

Hermione giggled, grabbed his greasy hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Harry, don't do anything until you are ready. You are the only one who gets to decide how long that takes."

Something loosened in Harry's chest and shoulders that felt like putting down a heavy burden he hadn't realized he was carrying. "Thanks, for that, Hermione. That's the sanest thing I've heard, well, in a while now. Have I reminded you lately just how brilliant you are at this whole best friend business?"

"I won't let it go to my head."

"And I might have believed that if you didn't look soooo smug right now!"

"Have you given any more thought to what you want to do work-wise?"

"A bit, why are you recruiting?" Harry glanced over both shoulders for affect and said in his best stage whisper, "Could you even tell me if you were?"

"Perhaps, or perhaps I already asked; and you already said no." Harry chuckled because he was pretty sure she was kidding. Or, he hoped so, at least. He must have looked a bit worried because she poked him in the ribs. "What I can tell you is that I don't think it would be your cuppa. You'd pretty much have to love everything that I used to get teased about at school."

"Gods, they did create that job just for you, didn't they?"

"Umm hmm!"

"Oh, you can grunt! So Unspeakables can still grunt, can they?" He ducked as she rained his head with some of her most friendly swats.

 

That night, Harry dreamt that he was back at Hogwarts. He was sitting in the Potion's classroom in his usual spot. He was about to get up and have a look around for Dream Snape when the door slammed open, and speak of the devil, he strode in wearing full teaching regalia.

"On time for your detention for a change, I see. How novel."

"I couldn't wait, Professor. I've been hard under my robes all day, sir, anticipating tonight."

"And, are you hard even now, Mr. Potter?" Dream Snape's voice dipped low enough to aim straight for Harry's cock.

"Oh, yes sir! Would you care to check for yourself, Professor Snape? I could be lying, you know."

"Yes. I think I had better. Come forward, Mr. Potter. Stand to my left."

"Yes sir!"

Harry stood and circled the desk to stand at the man's left. Dream Snape, of course, completely ignored him writing down something about the fact that he, Harry Potter, had turned up for his detention, check, on time, check. Then Snape shuffled some papers around and put some spare parchment, detention cards, and what nots away in his first drawer.

Then suddenly Dream Snape turned. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir?"

"Remove your robes. Drop your trousers and pants, so that I may determine whether or not you were telling me the truth about the degree of your... alleged anticipation."

"Shoes and socks too, sir?"

"You may leave on your shirt, tie, and socks. Shed the rest, quickly now!"

"Yes sir," said Harry locking eyes with Dream Snape and removing his robes slowly one button at a time. He licked his lips and let his robes fall off his shoulders then onto the floor. Next, he undid his belt and his trousers, slowly, but without hesitation.

He turned slightly so that Dream Snape got a nice view of his arse and took off his trainers. Then he took his trousers down to his knees then stepped out of them. Next he took his white y-front pants down, once again giving Snape a nice view. Then, Harry turned to face him and lifted his shirt tails so Dream Snape could get a really good look at Harry's erection that was just for him.

"I see you have come to your detention prepared, Mr. Potter. Will wonders never cease?" Dream Snape went back to Harry's detention card and checked the box by the word prepared.

"Do you happen to remember why you received this particular detention, Mr. Potter?"

"Hmm, I do get so many of them, you know, sir. Was this one because I'm a disrespectful cock-hungry bottom boy who thinks that the rules don't apply to him, Professor?"

"Precisely. Unfortunately for you, I no longer believe that you don't enjoy scrubbing cauldrons. Therefore, Mr. Potter, I have decided upon another activity for this evening which I hope will help you to improve your attitude and reform your future behavior."

"Does that mean you've given up on the stick, so to speak, and now plan to tempt me with your carrot, sir?"

"No, I mean that I am giving you a taste of my stick." Snape reached into the last drawer and withdrew a large wicked looking metal paddle. There were various sized holes in it and a sort of all-over raised grid design. It had the words, Bottoms Up, on it in black and blue."

"I am not letting you hit me with that."

"Potter, you are breaking character. Your safeword is yodelay-yodelayheehoo.  Bend over my desk."

"I'm not saying that. I'm not letting you hit me with Bottoms Up, either. I will let you rim me whilst slapping my arse with one hand and wanking yourself with the other."

"Deal."

 

__________________________

 

On Friday, Harry got up early and made another dose of Dreamless Sleep for that night. Then, he went to see his Muggle stylist monikka (pronounced Monica but spelled with two Ks and no uppercase) who, as far as he knew, might be the only person on the planet who could make his hair look half way decent by cutting it. After monikka worked her own brand of magic, he stopped by the tailor again for his final fitting.

 

Then Harry hit the gym hard, not so much to wear himself out so that he could sleep, which is why he had joined in the first place, but so that he could feel good about himself tomorrow, or well, feel better about his appearance at least. Whether or not Snape would care, Harry, more than likely, was in the best physical shape of his entire life. After the gym, a shower, and salad. Harry brushed and flossed his teeth, got into bed, and drank himself a Snape-free sleep.


	5. First Date

Harry woke feeling refreshed and excited. He could hardly believe that he was going to be spending time on a date with the real Snape in just a matter of hours.

 

Harry ate a quick breakfast and apparated to the Muggle neighborhood where he currently liked to run. It was nothing like Privet Drive. There were all styles of houses on his route and lots of gorgeous old trees, riotous gardens, a small park, public art, and other interesting landmarks. There were several other runners out too, some of whom he recognized and who saw him regularly enough to wave or otherwise greet him back.

 

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, he took a long, extremely thorough shower and groomed himself carefully. Then, he dressed and apparated to pick up his new suit at the appointed time. It was actually finished and just beautiful. After paying the rest of what he owed and raving about it to the proud tailor, he returned home and took great care dressing for his lunch date with Snape.

 

At 11:15, he apparated to the back of another building near the restaurant and made the five minute walk into a twelve minute stroll, pleased that he managed to turn a few heads along the way.

 

Snape showed up three minutes later, at precisely 11:30, just as Harry had expected. Snape looked edible in a charcoal jacket over light grey flannel trousers with a crisp white dress shirt and a silk tie of very Slytherin colors in an intricate Celtic knot pattern.

  
"Good to see you, Professor. You make a splendid Muggle."

  
"And you as well, Mr. Potter."

  
"I hope you're hungry?"

  
"Famished."

  
"Then, shall we?" Harry walked ahead and held the door.

  
They were seated immediately at a cosy table overlooking the garden. Harry pulled out Snape's chair. Then the waiter pulled out Harry's. Snape handed Harry a set menu that was already there on the table.

  
"Your manners have improved since your school days."

  
"They couldn't have gotten any worse, could they? Any change at all was bound to be an improvement. By the way, I'm sorry that we were rude to you last time I saw you."

  
"Last time?"

  
"In Diagon Alley? Close to a year ago?"

  
"Ah yes, as I recall you were not at fault on that occasion. In fact, you seemed rather offended on my behalf. It was Miss Weasley who was rude. Please don't tell me that is why you have invited me to lunch?"

  
"No, not at all. I've been thinking about you, though, and realized that I hadn't seen you in far too long."

  
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You managed to pleasantly surprise me." When not many have, Harry heard.

  
"It was that part where I was thinking, wasn't it?"

  
Snape chuckled. Harry felt a rush of pleasure at the sound.

  
"It seems you are developing a case of self-effacing humor."

  
"Well, why should other people have all the fun of laughing at me?"

  
They took a moment to decide. There were three courses and two selections for each course.

  
"Have you decided?" ask Snape, who had been watching Harry, waiting for him to look up from the menu. Snape's eyes were captivating. There was a warmth there that Harry had never seen during his days at Hogwarts.

  
Harry told Snape his choices. Snape said he would order the other three so that Harry could have a taste of everything.

  
"Really? Only if you are going to have some of mine, too, then?"

  
"Very well, if you wish, we can share."

  
Another waiter took their order and brought them water, an included glass of dry citrusy white wine and a white porcelain basket of tiny two-bite bread rolls made from chestnut flour that were sweet, delicious, and simply melted in the mouth.

  
"This place is brilliant! Do you come here often?"

  
"No, not often. I do try to come occasionally. This restaurant has been here for many years. It is- part of a special memory."

  
"Is this a memory you'd like to share?"

  
Snape looked down. Harry was certain that he had overstepped and that Snape was going to say no, or change the subject. Harry had an apology ready.

  
Instead Snape said, "I brought my mother here for lunch one day just after I had managed to save a little money and could afford to treat her. It was also the last time that I saw her as she-" Snape paused as if searching for the right phrase, "passed on not long after."

  
"I'm sorry to hear it."

  
Snape nodded and continued, "I remember both of us feeling terribly out of place at first. We must have looked like a pair of like penniless vagabonds even dressed as we were in what passed for our Muggle best. Instead of tossing us out as many similar establishments doubtlessly would have done, or being endlessly rude to us so that we left and never returned, the staff here then treated us as well as any of the other customers. By the end of the meal, we felt like royalty. I don't think I had ever seen my mother so happy and carefree as she was that day."

 

Snape took a sip of his wine, looking returned from the memory. "The food was then and still is exquisite, some of the finest in London. This is a Michelin Star restaurant. It should probably have two. There are wines on the menu that cost upwards of a 1000 galleons per bottle. However, you and I can both have a remarkable three course lunch here today with a very nice glass of wine and a few extras including a non-insulting tip, all for the equivalent of about 4 galleons. Considering the quality of the food and inventiveness of the chef, this is possibly the greatest lunch deal to be found anywhere in London at the moment. It was my hope that you will remember your lunch here today fondly for a long time to come, which may help offset the poor company in which you chose to spend it."

  
Harry felt truly ashamed that he had assumed that Snape's intention in choosing this place was to stick him with a huge bill. He wondered when, if ever, he was going to stop being just another in a long line of fools who misjudge Snape and live to regret it, or don't live that long, as the case may be.

  
A waitress showed up with a small tray of beautifully arranged, unbelievably tasty canapes and let them know that their first course would be arriving in a few minutes.

  
"How did you decide to bring your mother here?"

  
"Lucius Malfoy had suggested it. I never asked how he found it."

  
"Now there's my definiton of poor company, Professor, not you."

  
"Lucius isn't the worst by any means, at least when he isn't trying to kill me."

  
Harry chuckled. "I could say the same about you."

  
"You wouldn't know, Potter. I have never yet tried to kill you."

  
"No. You were always keeping me from getting myself killed. I never figured that out, though, or not for the first seven years. Slow learner, over here. Remember?"

  
Their first course arrived. Harry had two beautiful fish cakes with a wasabi foam and kiwifruit gastrique. Snape had snow crab meat and edible flowers aranged in lemongrass tea aspic. It looked like an abstract painting.

  
Since they had requested extra plates so that they could share, another waiter had brought a small round table and set a stack of small plates upon it. Severus and Harry both fixed a plate and passed it over to the other.

  
"How are your classes this year?"

  
"Quiet for the most part. I do have two students who would have given Black and your father a run for their money."

  
"Let me guess. They're both in Gryffindor, too, aren't they?"

  
"Yes, both third years. Mr. Michaels and Mr. Braddock spend more time in detention than out. They make me miss the Weasley twins who were at least clever in their antics. These boys are just maddeningly persistent. And you? What are you doing with yourself these days?"

  
"Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid. I entered the auror training program but soon realized that I hadn't missed a single thing about living one mistake away from dying every day. I since have decided to let other people deal with the dangerous nut jobs of the world."

  
Snape nodded. "As have I."

  
"Wouldn't want us hogging all the fun." Harry tried the aspic and his eyes fluttered closed. "Mmm!"

  
"Isn't it?"

  
When his mouth was free again, Harry said, "And here I was thinking my fishcake was about the best thing I'd ever tasted!"

  
"What would you enjoy doing for work?"

  
"I don't really know. I have a much clearer vision of what I don't want to do, quite frankly."

  
"Have you considered teaching? You were quite successful at it when you did Umbridge's job for her in your fifth year."

  
Here we go again. "Why? Are you recruiting, Professor?"

  
"Not at all, but I do happen to know that the Muggle Studies position has fallen open again."

  
"Muggle Studies? I never even took that class."

  
"Which is all for the best, no doubt. You would have to teach them all the same nonsense about Feletones so that they can pass their OWLS and NEWTS. You could also give them correct, practical information in case they ever have to navigate the Muggle world."

  
"Wouldn't I need more qualifications to teach?"

  
"Your NEWTs were impressive over all. You lived as a Muggle for about ten years, as well, albeit not under ideals circumstances. Minerva could remember, that if she were to ask herself, she would give you a glowing recommendation for the position. The Board of Governors will be thrilled to have someone of your stature at Hogwarts. Even I might not object too strongly." Snape actually curled his lips into a snarl when he said it, too.

  
Delighted, Harry laughed, and couldn't help feeling a little awestruck with how much fun he was fun he was having here with Snape. "Fortunately, I've learned a lot more about the Muggle world as a Wizard than I ever knew living with Tuney. I spend most of my time out these days amongst Muggles, matter of fact."

  
"Oh? Do you find every one of us so exceedingly dull?"

  
"Not at all, it's just been- easier, really. Strangers from our world are so needy. I've yet to meet a single solitary Muggle who expects me to fix all their problems. then bless their children, their houses, and the stuff in their basements. They don't have any magic but Muggles can easily recognize the fact that I can't sort through my own problems never mind solve everyone else's."

  
"Many in our world wish to look up to you as they did to Albus. Your fault for playing the dashing war hero so well, I'm afraid."

  
"Hey, you are my dashing war hero, you know, Professor. Maybe you can solve all my problems for me, then?"

  
"Which of your, no doubt, myriad problems might require my assistance, Mr. Potter? Do keep in mind that I am fully employed."

"Then don't get me started! I am going to look into the Muggle Studies position. I always loved Hogwarts. I think I'd enjoy that sort of a challenge, too. You know, it figures that you would be dead brilliant as a career counselor."

  
Snape snorted. "Potter, when I wasn't much younger than you, I was convinced that becoming a Death Eater was my best chance in life."

  
Harry nodded solemnly. "Exactly my point. You understand the value of good advice."

  
Just as they finished their appetizers a waiter materialized to remove used plates, refill their water glasses, and inform them that their main course was on the way. Just as he was leaving, two more of the wait staff served the main.

  
Again their plates looked worthy of photographing for an art magazine. Harry fixed a plate of his lamb roulade spiraled with layers of watercress, crushed hazelnut, and apricot served with a wild mushroom sauté and passed it to Snape, who in turn presented him a plate of sliced duck breast on a bed of thin ribbons of courgette served linguini style in an herbaceous sauce with a blood orange powder to sprinkle over it. Both entrees were perfectly composed gastronomic delights and by far the most interesting, perfectly prepared, most beautiful, and best tasting foods Harry had ever experienced.

  
For afters, they shared a pot of richly aromatic coffee and a selection of chocolates and petit fours, each one pure luxury and unique in one way or another. When they had split the last chocolate morsel which was filled with pistachio butter and rosewater jelly, and had drank the last of the coffee, Harry settled the very reasonable bill and left a very, very non-insulting tip, since the staff couldn't have done one more thing to make their meal more enjoyable.

  
"Thank you for lunch, Mr. Potter."

  
"Thank you for sharing this place with me. It has been great seeing you again too, Professor. I hope we can do this again soon?"

  
If Snape was at all surprised that Harry wasn't ready to flee the other way, he hid it well. There was only a momentary pause before he said, "I am far from as skilled as the chef here; but I do enjoy cooking. Would you be available to join me for dinner one evening?"

  
"That would be brilliant! Anytime. Will you let me know what I can bring?"

  
Snape nodded holding Harry's gaze. "Expect Brian within the week."

  
"He's beautiful, by the way. Did Dumbledore inspire his name?"

  
"Monty Python did. Am I correct in thinking that Humphrey is a Bogart reference?"

  
"Not really, no. I wanted to give him an H name, to honor the memory of my previous owl, Hedwig. He and I narrowed down the list to Humphrey or Horatio. He's definitely more of a Humphrey."

  
Harry again walked ahead and held the door for Snape on the way out.

  
"May I see you back to your home?"

  
"Not necessary and not practical since I'm not going there. However, your sustained gallantry today has been duly noted, Mr, Potter."

  
"Then please, will you call me Harry?"

  
"Harry," Snape held out his hand.

 

Harry took it in his and held it until Snape drew his back. Harry couldn't quite suppress his huge, beaming grin.

  
"I suppose you will want to refer to me as Severus now?"

  
"Severus, yes sir. I mean-"

  
Snape chuckled. "We shall work on that at dinner, then. Good day."

  
"And to you." Harry watched as Snape disappeared swiftly around a corner before walking to his own secluded apparition point.

_______________

Harry returned home feeling like he had just won at life. He had pulled off a successful date with Snape! He bet that few others alive or dead could claim that feat. He sank into his favorite chair at Grimmauld Place feeling his heart still pounding away. "Severus," he whispered into the silence, half expecting the man suddenly to appear.

 

Dinner! Sweet Merlin! He was going to have dinner with Snape! Snape was cooking for him, too! At his home! More than that, it was an actual second date, which seemed like so much more than he ever could have hoped a few days ago.

 

Had he felt like this before? The breathless exhileration, the captivation of his interest, the single-minded heart-pounding desire? For Ginny? For anyone? And this was Snape, the darkly mysterious, incalculably complex, weirdly sexy, and constantly surprising, Severus. Gods they were finally on a first name basis.

 

At this point, Harry wasn't doubting it any longer. He definitely played quidditch for both teams, or wanted to quite madly, at least, and not just in his dreams anymore.


	6. Ginny Trouble

(Author's Note: Happy Halloween or a productive Samhain everybody! Sorry this update was so slow in coming. I just moved. It took a while for me to get sorted and back to writing. Thanks to all who are reading this! Give yourself a big hug from me if you have left kudos or found time to leave a comment. Please know that I love you all. I am the silly cow jumping over the moon every time I hear from somebody out there.)

 

___________________________

 

On Sunday morning, Justin fire-called to see how Harry's Saturday mystery date went. Even though Harry was very short on details, he ended up invited over for lunch and to see Bettany's latest building project using her favorite new block set.

Bettany soon explained what she had built was a house for homeless kittens. Harry had realized that Bettany was very advanced verbally when he had met her on Tuesday but was truly impressed both by the little girl's creativity and the patience and coordination it had taken for her to build the three tiered structure. Justin and Talbot both laughed when Harry remarked that he reckoned Bettany was going to give Hermione Granger competition. Apparently even Talbot had heard the stories of "that Ravenclaw-Girl-in-Gryffindor."

 

Later, when Talbot was putting Bettany down for a nap, it was only Justin and Harry still sitting at a table under a tent in the back garden with Spice and Beckham intertwining their legs. Harry had just poured them both another cup of Da Hong Pao when Justin said, "I've been meaning to thank you, Harry, for not holding grudges about the war."

Harry wondered if he looked as truly puzzled as he felt because Justin, with a pained look clarified, "about my desertion."

"Desertion?" Justin's was one of several Muggle families he knew of that was forced to flee the country rather than being rounded up by the then corrupt Ministry. "Gods, Justin! Nobody thinks that!"

Justin shook his head. "People do think that. I can't go into Diagon Alley without at least hearing it. Ususally someone spits on me or threatens something. On my last visit there I was both hexed and physically roughed up. I'm worried that a mob of vigilantes might show up here some night."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Now that he did though, Harry couldn't accept it. "You are telling me that a bunch of morons who never lifted a little finger against Voldemort themselves are treating the muggleborn who were forced to flee like war criminals?"

"Probably. It's not just strangers, though. Most of the old DA are just as nasty to me these days. Well, not Neville. He's always been a decent bloke, though, hasn't he? Not Granger and Ron nor Lovegood, but most of the rest. But, I thought you had to know, Harry. I mean, Ginny Weasley is one of the worst!"

"Gin?" Harry was floored but then was flooded with memories of all the times that Ginny was rude to someone when they had been out and about together. She often was rude, he now realized, but he'd never discerned any pattern. Harry, much to his own dismay, knew he had never given it much thought before either. Ginny just disliked an awful lot of people they had known at school and was far too honest to pretend otherwise. At least, that was what he'd always told himself. "What exactly made Ginny one of the worst?"

"I think Ginny started this whole thing, for me anyway. I had just returned from our place in Nice and was so happy to be home. Not that there is anything wrong with France, but it isn't England, is it? It was so wonderful to see a familiar face that I walked over to say hello. What a mistake I'd made. Ginny looked at me like I was something to scrape off her shoe."

Justin's hand shook a bit when he reached for this teacup and took a sip. Then he continued, "She had quite a bit to say about how cowardly I was to run away and how badly I had let all of you down. How dare I show up after the war, and after all her family sacrificed? She extolled how I was worse than a Death Eater even, because at least they had stood up for what they believed."

"That's all rubbish."

"Maybe. I don't know any more. Maybe she has a point."

"On her head maybe, at the location where something knocked her brain loose. That might explain a few things."

"She said what she said all very loudly, too, and drew in a big crowd. Next thing, someone from the Daily Prophet was standing there snapping photos and scratching away with a floating dicta-quill. Then someone in the crowd behind me pushed me hard into a really big bloke who got angry. He pushed me down. I couldn't get up again. There wasn't the room. People in the crowd kept shifting and some were trodding on me. Some people were just getting jostled but some started stomping and kicking. Well, I thought I was going to get trampled to death- so I apparated- or "ran away again" as the Prophet dutifully reported."

"I can't believe I never heard about this."

"It made front page news three days in a row. Then there were smaller follow-up articles that mentioned it. I thought everyone had seen."

Harry shook his head. "I stopped reading that rag years ago. Perhaps that was a mistake."

"I'll admit that when you fire-called me to go shopping, I thought I'd been, I don't know, officially forgiven? You really don't hold any of the desertion business against me?"

"Don't even call it that. You were a kid, Justin. Not like you had a real choice in the matter. What were you supposed to do? Not get an education? Talk your whole family into staying so they could be imprisoned or worse and have all their assets seized? That would have helped Voldemort out a whole bunch. Listen, I'll talk to Ginny and- Don't suppose you know who owns the Prophet now, do you?"

"That would be Malfoy git the younger. Bloody good luck with getting him to champion me or any other Muggleborn."

"This isn't right, Justin. I'll get it straightened out, somehow."

"Merlin, Harry! Thank you just for trying. I mean it. It's not even me I worry about, it's- " Justin glanced at the empty chair and high seat where Talbot and Bettany were no longer sitting.

"I know. It'll be all right."

______________

That evening, Harry met Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville for their usual on Sundays. This time they met at the Leaky and had a spot of dinner there. Then they flooed to a way station near a pub in Bristol called The Hatchet Inn, or the Hat Shat, as it was known to the locals.

According to Dean, whose Muggle sister Kim was quickly becoming something of an authority on both magical and Muggle night life in England, this pub had a nearly 400 year long magical history. The pub door was covered in spell-tanned leather. The leather was once the skin of a local Muggle. He had made the mistake, while drinking at this pub, of remarking on the unfortunate looks of a young aristocrat in the area who was also a Pure Blood witch.

The door was said to be her reminder to Muggle and Wizard men alike for there were plenty of other pubs in the world; every one of which would likely benefit from a handsome new front door. Apparently, no one else had much to say on the subject of her looks thereafter, since a door of human skin seems unique to this one pub.

Walking in, Harry could sense that everyone except for them in the place that night was a Muggle or possibly a Squib. Regardless, at a glance most of the crowd could pass for junior Death Eaters.

"Weird!" said Neville. "Why are we are the only ones in here dressed like Muggles?"

"They are called Golfs, I think, said Ron. Oi, Dean are they Golfs? Galts?"

"Goths," said Dean grinning. "But you were pretty close."

"What about that door, too!" said Ron. "Could easily see Parkinson skinning and tanning some poor bloke."

"Not half, Ron, Or Bulstrode!" said Dean.

"Be lucky to find enough left over to cover a snuff box never mind a bleeding pub door." This from Seamus.

Harry hated it when they started talking about Slytherin women. It always started wirh casual insults and then got progressively more raunchy. It was cringe-worthy. He could tell it all made Neville feel uncomfortable. "Why tempt fate though? Aren't you three doing a bit like what that door warns against?"

"Good point, Harry. Never good to insult a witch," said Neville perking up a bit. "Did anyone know there is a leather-substitute that can be grown from certain fermented herbal infusions? I'd rather have a door covered in vegetable leather any day, personally."

"Vegetable Leather! Sounds like the name of a band that would play in here." said Dean.

"Or some kind of a sex kink." Ron recoiled from the look Harry and Neville shot him. "What? Just saying."

"Well, nice try changing topics anyway," said Neville to Harry under his breathe.

"What would vegetables have to do with IT though?" asked Ron.

"Girls use them, don't they?" said Seamus.

"For what?" asked Ron.

"For a bit of fun down there without a bloke around. Cucumbers and courgettes, or a nicely shaped aubergine maybe." He illustrated the concept with the apropriate two-handed lewd gesture.

"Witches would never! Neither would Muggles, come to think. They've got those tech highs to frig themselves with," said Ron.

"High tech. But you're right Ron. Muggles have vibes and dildos and silicone. What does any woman need with a rotten old vegetable? But then again, Muggles do call people in comas vegetables!" Dean supplied helpfully.

"Stop! Just, please, can't we talk about something else tonight?"

"Like What, Har?"

"Anything."

"Yeah, not fair is it, seeing how he's cut off," said Ron.

"Yeah, sorry Harry," said Dean, but he frankly looked much more elated than sorry about it.

"So what then? We can always talk about the Chudley Cannons!"

"Sure Ron. The Chudley Cannons suck 100 times worse this year that they ever have sucked prior, which is usually quite a bit. Pretty much covers that topic," said Seamus.

"Well," Ron started, looking like he wanted to argue the point, but he finally said, "Yeah."

Everyone was quiet for a while nursing their ales or lagers (or commiserating about the Cannons possibly, but that was probably just Ron) and searching for a new topic.

Finally Harry made up his mind as to whether he wanted to mention it to this lot or not and said, "I went to see Justin Finch-Fletchley today."

"Gawds why, Harry?" said Seamus making a face.

"He invited me for lunch."

"Prolly heard you are on the outs with Ginny. Careful there or he'll become a real pain in your arse, if you know what I mean." said Dean.

"You mean that he's gay. Yeah, I know. I also met his husband Talbot and their little girl, Bettany. She's two and bright as any Lumos."

"How'd two blokes manage that then?" Seamus asked.

"Didn't ask. It's none of my business. What Justin did tell me is that he is getting a lot of bad press lately and hostility because his parents decided to flee the corrupt Ministry's anti-Muggle edicts."

"Must have been nice him sitting out the war in bloody gay Par-ee," said Ron.

"What was Justin supposed to do, then?"

"I dunno but not everyone had the dosh to leave, did they?"

"Yeah, and a lot who didn't ended up dead with all their former assets funding Voldie's war chest."

"I'm not saying that he did wrong, necessarily. But Gin's got a point, doesn't she? He should have stayed in France instead of coming back here. He made his choice and should have to live with it."

"Hermione made her choice to send her parents away. Why should she get to bring them back after the war?

"Not the same, though, is it! Hermione made the good choice. She stayed and fought. She earned that right to bring her family back."

Neville had been frowning for a while now Harry had noticed. He didn't often express disagreement with anyone. When he did, though, people generally listened. "What do you think about it Neville?" asked Harry.

"You're wrong. Ron. That's what Vvo-Voldemort wanted to do. Get to decide who belongs and who doesn't. No one gets to decide for everyone else. No one had any "good choices" during the war, either.  We all had to do the best we could, according to our own situation, abilities, and personal conscience. Justin couldn't have attended Hogwarts. Harry didn't ask him to go with the three of you, as far as I know. He was never inducted into the Order. He probably had no way to contact organized resistance. He had to leave and try to protect his Muggle family alone in France. It isn't like the Muggles in France were outside of Voldemort's grasp. They were just a bit safer from the powers of the corrupt Ministry, is all."

"Yeah, maybe, Nev. Look Harry, I don't care about Justin and the rest of them one way or another. I do see why Ginny is so upset, though. They could leave. My family never had the option. We were blood-traitors and poor to boot despite being Pure Bloods. We were your family. I'm your best mate. Targets from the get go, not that we would have done anything different. Still, did Ginny have a choice during that business during her first year? Did Fred have a choice not to die?"

"No. But Justin didn't have the choice to stay either, Ron."

"Yeah, Ron" said Dean, "he just had to sit out the war eating snails and drinking pink champagne all day, poor him. My family had to move our flat number that was on our door to the door of a supply closet, then wall over the front door, and knock a hole through to my auntie's flat so we could use her door to get in and out. Not hiding in France exactly, is it?, But really close, yeah? We also donated all the spare coin and needed Muggle supplies we could get our hands on to the war effort through McGonagal. It was my lot in life to shift it all. That's how I got caught by those Snatchers. Bet they never would have found me in France."

"You were brilliant, Dean. I'm grateful for all you did. But Justin's family helped fund the war effort too. Our side too, not like if they had been caught and had all their funds and property confiscated by the Ministry."

"Oh yeah and Justin just happened to mention that did he!"

"No, he never mentioned it, Ron. The Headmistress told me about all that ages ago."

"Well, Justin was a right prat that time about the whole heir of Slytherin thing, remember?"

"Um, Kettle, this is Pot. Pot come meet Ron. He's a bit of a sodding hypocrite."

"Okay, okay. But at least I admitted anytime I was a prat to you after the fact."

"So did he; and he apologized for it by the end of the year, same as you,"

"Let's say I can admit that Ginny might be a bit out of line. She can't help how she feels though, mate. Fred's death went hard on her. Maybe if, you know, you talk to her about all this?"

"Yeah. I'm coming over tomorrow to do just that."

"Good then, maybe you can patch up with her a bit, too, so we can all eat in the same room together at least. Speaking of eating, I vote we order some more food. All this talking has got me starving again."

_______________

That night, for the second night in a row, Harry and Dream Severus just held each other in Harry's bed while talking the night away. Dream Snape seemed fine with exploring this more platonic side of their relationship together. As for Harry, he only wanted Snape now, the real Severus in the flesh, not Harry's constant dreamtime friend and companion.

It did seem quite odd to Harry, whether he was sleeping or awake, that he was still experiencing these long, involved Dream Snape dreams, even now when nothing particularly sexual loomed on his own dreamtime agenda. Harry's latest dreams typically involved what seemed to be hour upon hour of cuddling or spooning with Dream Snape or mutual non-sexual petting or sometimes Harry's careful brushing of Snape's long black hair, when all the while Harry would share his most private thoughts and feelings with Dream Snape. Somehow, these quietly whispered, gently traced intimacies were much harder dreams for Harry to rationalize than his previous wildly sexual ones.


	7. True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to xikum and others whose wise comments helped hone and reign in the story and changed the order of some events. Thanks for the food for thought which can only have made this chapter better than it would have been if my brain had been limping along as starving as usual.

On Monday morning, after breakfast, a long run, and a shower, Harry dressed in jeans and a new shirt with a solid stripe color-blocked across his chest and biceps that Justin has said emphasized his strong physique. Harry liked it because it was soft and comfortable. He apparated to a car park nearby James Knight his favorite Muggle fishmonger and a short walk later picked out a whole side of fresh wild Scottish salmon. Then Harry lost himself from the Muggle shoppers and tourists in an alley and apparated to the front door of the Burrow. Apparently Ron had mentioned Harry's impending visit because before he could knock, Ginny, barefoot and in her patched blue robes, opened the door immediately. She looked radiant as ever and, rather shockingly, pleased to see him.

" Morning Gin. "

" Oh Harry, you look terrible. Haven't been sleeping, have you? "

"Been dreaming a bit, but no. Haven't been sleeping very well."

"You've been dreaming about us, haven't you? Let's just get married as soon as possible!"

"What? No. We talked about this. But that's not why I'm here."

"But you said you were dreaming about us!"

"I never said that."

"But you were dreaming?"

"Not about us. Look Gin-"

"What do mean? Who have you been dreaming about, then?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"If you didn't want to talk about us why bother bringing me a gift?."

"Um, it's fish."

"Fish?"

"Wild salmon. For your mum."

"I'm going to kill Ron! I thought you were here- Oh, never mind!"

"Why did you think I was here?"

"Ron said maybe you'd changed your mind. I thought you wanted to marry me finally!"

Well, thanks loads for that Ron. "Sorry, Gin. I'm not ready to get married. I won't be in six weeks. You aren't ready to marry me either."

"You're wrong! I'd marry you today!"

"You're with Dean again for Merlin's sake. If you were ready to get married then you'd be waiting for me on the Quidditch pitch instead of off with him in the locker room."

"I have done NOTHING in life but wait for you! All that time we could have been together at school but you wouldn't look twice at Ron's baby sister! When I finally had you, you broke up with me for no good reason! Then I waited at Hogwarts from Hell while you were off with my brother and Hermione as usual, but this time camping in the bloody woods!"

"Look Gin, I realize that you think that dating other people is the same thing as waiting for me, but it isn't. I broke it off with you so Voldemort wouldn't hurt you to win. You know that. I didn't expect you to wait. I didn't date not just because I had things I had to get done. I didn't want anyone to get hurt or get killed because of me, but especially not you. Just don't make me feel like pond muck for taking the war and your safety seriously, yeah?"

"Who have you been dreaming about Harry?"

"That isn't-" any of your business Ginny, Harry was careful not to say, and chose instead "why I'm here. I wanted to talk about what happened between you and Justin."

"Is it him? Justin Finch-Fletchley? You've been dreaming about shagging HIM!"

Harry had no idea what was going on but could tell that somehow Ginny did. "Look Gin, it will be okay. Just tell me what you did to me."

"I thought it would be me! I'm supposed to be your true love, Harry Potter!"

"Oh Gods, is this all just some- is this a love potion, or something?"

"I wish!"

"What is it then?"

"I cast a spell, Harry, last time you were here. Just a stupid spell, right?"

Harry thought back to when he had left Ginny on the porch. He'd thought a gnome had nipped his calf. "You cast a love spell on me?"

"Not exactly. It's a divination spell, I guess."

"I never remember Trelawney-"

"Not bloody her at least. I read about it."

"Read about it where?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might do, yeah."

"It was in an old issue of Witch Weekly." Harry was pants at reading people and deep down he knew it. Still, he had a sneaking suspicion that Ginny was in the process of spinning together the truth with a lie even as she continued. "You're supposed to cast it on yourself to divine the identity of your true love. But I have always known you were my true love, Harry, always, even before I met you. Look, none of this matters. We can still get married. I don't care if I'm not your true love, too, or that you're gay even. I've known for a while now, anyway. We can still have a perfect life together, a brilliant family. You've always wanted that, right?"

"Gin, just- no."

"You want kids! I know you do! I can give them to you! You can still be a Weasley and see Finch-Fletchley, too. Ugh, I can't believe you are dreaming about him, though!"

"It's not him."

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "Fine, you still can see this mystery bloke you're dreaming about who isn't him, then. Dean and I have each other. We've talked about this. He doesn't want marriage or kids, so this works out a treat for him. See? We can all fit together. Everything still can be perfect in the end!"

"Ginny, about this spell-"

"What does it matter about the spell I cast on you!" She was exasperated with how thick he was being and was really shreiking at him now. "We can all be perfect together, Harry!"

"Ginevra Weasley! What do mean that you cast a spell on Harry?"

They both turned to see a red-faced Molly Weasley standing in the doorway to the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her apron.

"It was in your old Witch Weekly."

The color ran out of Molly's face like a Dementor was chasing it. "Which one?"

Ginny set her jaw and shrugged, looking put upon and downright mulish.

"Which!"

"One of them. How should I know?"

"Then go on! Straight upstairs with you! Find that issue and then bring it here to me. Now!" Ginny groaned miserably, then stomped  upstairs rather admirably loudly considering her bare feet. "Harry dear, let's both stay calm," said Molly looking anything but calm. "Let's just wait until we can figure out what this is about. Come into the kitchen and keep me company. I'll make us all some tea."

Harry indicated the parcel still bundled under his arm. "Saw some fresh wild salmon at that Muggle fish shop I showed you both on Arthur's Muggle field trip that Hermione organized for his birthday last year. I put a stasis spell on it, so no rush."

"Oh how good of you to pick some up! Let's have a look at it, then!"

Harry followed along into the kitchen and did as Molly instructed. Frankly, he was worried because he had a very bad feeling that something was really wrong.

He'd already known it somehow, too. He had to have known that something was off with him, and had been amiss for a while now. Hadn't even Dream Snape been bugging him to let Severus look him over and figure this whole thing out?

Harry obviously had known but hadn't wanted to think about it, either. He hadn't wanted to do anything about it anyway because he liked having Dream Snape hold him every night- and Gods could this really mean that Snape was his-"

"Harry!"

"Uh, pardon?"

"I asked, will you have a biscuit with your tea, dear?"

"Oh sorry. Um, no thanks then, I guess, Molly. But thank you for asking. "

"Harry-"

"Oh okay, then. Sure, I'll have one. Thank you."

"No Harry, I am not pushing biscuits on you. Just don't worry, all right dear? Don't give this any more thought until we know for certain that there is something to worry about. Here Ginevra comes now with that magazine."

It was an ancient issue dated April, 01 1968. On the black and white cover a shapely Celestine Warbeck was wearing tight sparkly robes and a very uncomfortable looking headpiece. She danced an elaborate routine over and over."

"Oh no!"

"Molly, what is it?"

"It is True Love's Dreaming!" At hearing this. Ginny's obvious distress turned into shrill sobbing as she bolted back upstairs. Molly ignored her completely, transfixed on the cover of her old magazine. She picked it up and held it to her chest. "I should have destroyed this then. The only reason I kept it was because of how much I dearly love Celestine! Listening to her beautiful voice had brought me through so many dark times, Harry. Would do soon again, too. Oh dear, this is all my fault!"

"No, whatever this is, it isn't a case of who is at fault. Can you tell me what's happened to me exactly?"

"Harry, this spell is a curse you see, or really two spells in one. When you cast it on yourself, it is called True Love's Dreaming which is harmless. You dream that one night about your true love, the person whose magic had made them most compatible with you. However should a person cast it on someone else it becomes True Love's Curse. But if Ginny cast it on you- oh my dear!"

"What does it do?"

"It keeps on night after night. You can't rest. You must know?"

"So the constant dreaming, the sleeplessness, happens forever?"

"Until you bond with your true love. Oh, Ginny couldn't have known!"

"She knew that I'd be losing sleep and dreaming all the time of my true love, at least."

"She knew that? Well then, we'll see what else she knows. Let's go, Harry." Dutifully, Harry followed Molly up the stairs to Ginny's room. "Ginevra Weasley, Harry and I need to speak with you. You open this door!"

Ginny opened it looking wan and cried out. "It wasn't locked."

"Did you know that you were cursing Harry to night after night without sleep?"

"I thought he'd dream of me! He's not but says he loves me!"

"I do. I love you, Gin. I love your whole family."

"You love me like a little sister!"

"Yes. That and as a good friend, too. But yeah, I realize now, that's all it is. I am so sorry. I wish I'd known it from the start. I really didn't know until now, though. I just had a sort of unshakeable feeling. I knew I had more stuff to figure out before I could get married to anybody."

"Ginny, dear, why would you do such a terrible thing?"

"What do you mean why? Because I want to get married!"

"But how on earth could you do such a thing to someone you love even as a friend, never mind to the man you wanted for a husband?" Ginny wouldn't look her mother or Harry in the eye but brushed yet more tears off her cheeks. Finally Molly asked, "Harry, who is in your dreams?"

"Sorry, I can't say. I really need to talk to him about this first."

Molly gasped. "Him! Oh! Oh Harry dear, yes." She patted his hand and regained her bearings a bit. "Yes, you should talk first to him. That would be for the best."

"Oh, it's just Justin Finch-Fletchley!" said Ginny flinging herself dramatically face down onto her bed.

"Gin, it isn't him, not that there is anything wrong with Justin. That is all I'm saying about this, though."

"Well, let's all have some tea then, shall we?"

"I'm not drinking any more sodding calming tea!"

"Ginevra, watch your mouth and show some respect for me and for yourself. You are going down stairs, where you, Harry, and I will all have a nice calm cup of tea like three civilized people. Right now young lady!"

"Oh Gods, mother! Can't you just let me alone for once?"

"Look, Molly. It's okay. I have to go anyway. Can I take that magazine? I'll bring it back."

After Molly's eyes lingered over Celestine on the front cover for a moment, she nodded and handed it over to Harry, "Yes, dear. Of course. I'll just need one more quick word about it before you leave. I'll walk you down, shall I?" Molly closed the door softly behind them. On the stairs, she held his hand tightly and used it and the bannister taking careful steps. It occurred to him that he had never thought of Molly as fragile or aged. The force of her personality made her larger than life. All the same, he hadn't seen her charging down the stairs here, in what? Six months, maybe a year now?

"You'll still have that cup with me, won't you?"

"I could use some calm. Thanks Molly."

Molly herded him into the kitchen and sat him down telling him he had to let her know on which night he was going to help them eat that beautiful salmon he'd brought. She chattered away, moving with purpose, until she had poured them both a cup fixed perfectly and floated his to him. A biscuit followed along just behind, a small home-baked shortbread. Then she brought her own cup over to the table and sat. Harry took a polite nibble at the corner of the biscuit but ended up making appreciative sounds and devouring every crumb of it. He had two more, too, and felt a lot better for it. Harry wondered if Molly was doing an homage to Dumbledore by dumping calming draughts into her baking and tea. If the tea won't get you the sweets would, he thought fondly. Considering all the excitement around here, maybe Albus was the one who stole that idea from her in the first place? Maybe parental types all think alike. Who could say?

"Harry dear, you needn't return that magazine. I trust you to do what's right. The Ministry ordered every copy destroyed years ago. It was just stupid and selfish of me to hang on to one long enough to cause you trouble."

"What happened back then that the Ministry became involved?"

"It was an all but forgotten double spell. A dark witch rediscovered it and wrote an article just listing the light spell aspects intending to cause mayhem. She counted on how lax the oversight was at a silly magazine focusing on celebrity and fashion. Lots of young witches that spring cast it on boyfriends or on friends who weren't dating yet. It took several days before anyone even noticed the symptoms and several more weeks before aurors traced the curse to the spell in the article."

"What happened to them?"

"Many ended up in Janus Thickey. There was at least one suicide because of the guilt of inflicting it upon another. One young woman died fighting her true love's life-bonded wife in a desperate duel. Arthur and I were all on our own back then. Arthur had his charmed gadgets, some less than legal. I'm afraid that I couldn't foresee the great harm I would be doing in keeping my copy. When they came along, the boys never gave my old magazines a second look. Oh, but then Ginny came, after all that time. I simply never thought to- Oh, I am so very sorry, Harry! "

"No, it will be okay. I'm just going to have to figure out what to do about this."

"To start, you should turn that magazine into the Ministry of Magic and file a complaint. Just please make sure they know it was mine, that Arthur never knew, and that I alone take full responsibility for all of-"

"Sorry Molly, but I'm not doing that. It will be fine. This will all turn out for the best. You'll see."

"Oh Harry, I certainly hope you are right. You will let us know if there is anything at all that any of us can do to help you set this thing right, won't you?"

"I will. Thanks for tea and the brilliant shortbread. Got to go, though." Harry was almost to the door when he glanced back and was overwhelmed by the Molly's expression. He saw deep compassion and concern for his well-being written in every line on her face. He found he couldn't leave just yet. "Before I go, thank you Molly for absolutely everything ever since I was eleven. I'd never had anyone welcome me into a family, try to feed me up, or hug me even, until you. My life would have been so bleak. You remember how hopeless I was. I'd likely never have made it onto the Hogwarts Express even that first time without your help."

When she smiled at him finally, he was about to go but decided to add, "Tell Gin thanks, too. I know some important stuff now that I'd never have been able to figure out in six weeks or sixty years without help. So, yeah, tell her it's good this all happened."

Harry turned away again and had made it to the door before another thought struck his sluggish, sleep deprived mind. "Oh, and about the magazine, I'll return it on salmon night. I'll bring a charmed lock box too. I'll show you this killer personal locking charm the Minister of Magic taught me- Shacklebolt, not Fudge, luckily. I can strengthen the spell as you cast. We'll make dead certain that nobody but you or Celestine will be bringing back those far out dance moves."

That was when Molly teared up and nearly caused Harry to do the same. She hurried over and embraced him in one of her long, soft, warm hugs that never failed to take him totally by surprise.

"You are always going to be one of mine, Harry. If I'd given you birth, I couldn't love you any more than I do. Your parents would be so proud of the man you've become."

"Thanks, Mum Weasley. I'll make this okay. No need for us to worry any more, right?"

　

__________

　

When Harry returned home, He carefully read the old issue of Witch Weekly cover to cover. There was no mention of the curse part of the spell or the symptoms. Harry had to wonder how Ginny had found out about them. He could see why Molly had kept the whole magazine, though. The entire spell article was located on the back of the last page of the in-depth feature interview with Celestine who back in sixty-eight was experimenting with magical harmonics, pitch combinations, and intonations "to heal the Earth and bring lasting peace and prosperity to the entire world, Muggle and magical." Apparently her experiments didn't pan out very well for world peace obviously, but her ideas about magical and musical theory were fascinating. What he could understand, anyway. The article made him sad that when he sang in the shower, even his mirror complained. That mirror really liked Harry, too.

Harry fire-called Hermione and brought her up to speed on his situation. After he calmed Hermione down about Ginny, she promised to research the curse and the incident in 1968. Harry then read in the old Black library for all the information he could find about the curse there. After making an early meal of a canned Muggle chicken vegetable soup, which frankly tasted both too salty and too bland, he brushed and flossed, took another quick shower, dressed in jeans that looked painted on but didn't feel tight at all and a plain dark grey t-shirt that looked amazing on him but didn't look like he was trying at all, and fire-called Severus just after four asking if he had a moment.

"You may come through."

Harry stepped out into a sitting room that he knew must have been recently renovated. It was floor to ceiling with built-in dark wooden book shelves overflowing with books. What little he could see of the walls were ice blue. Covering most of the dark wooden floor was a gorgeous cream-colored Western Asian rug accented with greens, blues, and yellows in elaborate vine patterns. The couch and single chair were golden leather. The street side entry was filled with windows dressed with sheers with a glass front door in the center that spilled in the light flooding the small room. Beyond the windows there was a tiny, well tended terraced garden with nothing more out-of-the-ordinary or dangerous-looking than lavender, tarragon, and some other common cooking herbs.

"Your home is lovely."

"Thank you. It was all but falling down until I made a recent project of it. I used magic to do the work but used all Muggle supplies and construction techniques in case I ever decide to sell. I'm quite happy with the results."

"I did the same thing after the war to Grimmauld Place, except for the Muggle supplies and techniques, I mean. Plus, I didn't do all or even much at all of the work myself either. So really, nothing like what you've accomplished here, in other words. I do understand your need to do it, after the war. Is this a 2 up 2 down?"

"Yes, I decided after the war to enjoy this house for the first time in my life.  I put plumbing into the kitchen and turned a small bedroom into a very large bathroom. I'd offer you the grand tour but doubt that is why you are here. You look troubled Harry. It is obvious you have not been sleeping. Is this about the Muggle Studies position or one of your other myriad problems which you never told me about?"

Harry took a deep breath searching for the least embarrassing place to start. There really wasn't one. "I don't suppose you have heard of True Love's Dreaming?"

"Ah. I take it you have recently cast it on yourself? Congratulations then. Just who is lucky young wizard?"

Wizard? Gods, had everyone known he was gay except for him and Molly? "Well, that would be you, Severus. I didn't cast it, though. Ginny Weasley did."

"She cursed you!"

"She did. I thought at first that she didn't know it was a curse, or something, but she must have done. The article she said she found, it didn't mention the curse or the effects at all, yet she knew the symptoms before she cast the spell. I don't know how."

"When did she cast it?"

"Saturday before last. I just found out about all this today."

"I recall that you said that you were thinking of me, Harry. You failed to mention that you had been dreaming about me every night."

Harry could feel his face burning and was even more embarrassed- because what was more embarrassing than blushing? "True. All that dreaming certainly did make me think about you, though, quite a bit, really." Gods, he wasn't looking but could feel Snape's amusement all the same.

"I see. So it appears that it is up to me to save the savior once again."

"No!" He did look at Snape then and had no trouble meeting his eyes. "I'm not asking for that. I wouldn't anyway, but I'm taking Dreamless Sleep. And yes, I know better than to take it more than twice a week and get addicted. I can live with two nights of real rest a week. forever, if need be. That's probably more than I got at school. I just wanted to let you know what was going on with me, is all. If you wanted to help I'd appreciate anything you can do with parsing the spell and curse-breaking. I was going to talk to Bill Weasley about that, too. Hermione is already on the research end. Just please, don't think I'd try to force you into bonding, or anything else for that matter. That's the last thing I'd do to you, figuratively speaking, because literally I wouldn't do that to you at all, ever, force you I mean or expect you to just- You've done more than enough for me and everyone else in the world, like several life-times worth, already, Severus. You don't owe anyone a thing. I know that better than anyone. I won't even bother you again after today if you can't be bothered with me and my ridiculously stupid problems. I just thought I owed it to you, really, after our lunch went so well. I didn't want you to think, well- I wanted to explain and to let you know that this wasn't all part of some grand plan of mine all along, or anything. I really just found out what was happening earlier. Sorry I'm barely thinking straight now, and not just because I'm gay, which I also just figured out today too. I'm babbling. I should go."

"Harry, stay. I would be mad to let flee any chance to be close to one so appealing, especially as magic itself has deigned that you and I have the chemistry to create true love together. Do you think me such a great fool that I would allow this opportunity to slip through my cold, greedy Slytherin fingers."

"Um, you find me appealing?'

"Physically, I find you delectable. I know it is hard to believe looking at me, but sexually I am a man of no small experience. Yet, never have I worshipped and delighted in the body of a young living Adonis. Whilst it certainly would be a departure from that to which I am accustomed, I believe I could grow used to having this sort of dumb luck falling into my lap in the future.

"Well, we both find each other physically attractive, then. Because I do, too, you know. Want to fall in you lap, I mean. That's a good start, I guess."

"While your physical charms have been much on my mind of late, your body is not the only or even the main attraction on offer."

"It isn't?"

"No, I know you to be persistently thoughtful toward those for whom you love as friends, and uncommonly caring even toward complete strangers. I believe it would be quite something to experience the intensity of your innate kindness as your lover, Harry. Again, that would take some getting used to but I believe I am up for the challenge of sharing a heart-felt relationship with a sexual partner.

"We have never- been kind to one another."

"No need for such diplomacy. I realize that I have in the past been exceedingly cruel to you."

Harry smiled a mischievous smile that reached his eyes. "Exceedingly? As in exceeds expectations? You've been outstandingly cruel, even." 

Severus smiled and nodded. He spoke quietly and earnestly holding Harry's gaze, "Please know that I am truly sorry for any pain I have caused you or your friends. However, I can not say that I regret those actions. It was my duty at the time to put forth a convincing persona and cultivate your hate while driving as much emotional and physical distance as possible between us."

"I never understood at the time, even though Albus, Hermione, and even you, as good as explained it to me, frequently. You were just so talented at being completely awful. I realized a while ago, though. that you couldn't have been my favorite teacher or even a neutral party. I know the more Voldemort and the other Death Eaters were convinced that we hated each other, the safer we both were. Even I had to believe in our mutual hate, with Voldemort in my head all the time. I get that now."

"I want you to know that my wartime attempts at misdirection in no way mirror my intentions for us in the future. I hope for a fresh start and that we can put behind us any old animosities left over from the war. I do not think it will be easy, Harry. I don't know how effective I will be at conducting an honest relationship, either, having had little to no practice, but I do intend to try my best.

"Your best is better than most. I wouldn't ask for more than that, Severus."

"You probably should. However, I will leave what you want from me, entirely up to you to decide."

"What I don't want is for us to rush this just so I can get some sleep, all right?"

"Then allow me to alleviate that pressure, at least. Come Harry."

Harry followed Severus upstairs to his bedroom, which was rather small and sparse of furniture. The huge bed overwhelmed the space. Still. the room was neat and decorated pleasantly. if minimally, in a similar style and color scheme to his sitting room. Severus opened a drawer by the bed, transfigured a spoon from a quill and counted out eight drops. He then handed the spoon to Harry.

"This is an experimental potion I created after my recovery. I call it Peaceful Rest because every more sensible name has been taken. It is dreamless and completely non-additive. However it can not be mixed with pears or alcohol. When did you last indulge?"

"Last night, I'm afraid. I went to a pub with Ron, Neville, and some of the others from my year. Haven't had a pear in a while, though."

"Were you intoxicated last night?"

"I drank two pints of Muggle bitters over a couple of hours."

"Take this then and let me watch over you tonight. If you have a bad reaction, I can counteract it."

"Will you-" Harry thought better of his request and ducked his head.

"What, Harry?"

"Could you hold me for a little while, in your bed, before I take it?"

"Yes, take it now, though. It should be a few minutes before you drop off."

Harry took the potion which he followed with tooth care and mouth freshening charms to combat the notes of rancid milk, turpentine, and raw liver dominating the taste of the potion. It would all be worth it, though, for just ten good minutes of real sleep every night, if he could get it. Plus, he'd never known a potion made by Severus, experimental or not,  not to work brilliantly nor ever for one to taste decently. This one hadn't let him down by tasting good, so he figured it would put him out like a Nox. He toed off his trainers and socks, left his jeans and shirt folded on the night table by the bed, and slid under the covers. He met Severus who had done much the same, and was waiting for him in the middle of the bed. Severus wore pants, not going commando, not wearing starched black wool nor green and silver silk either. He wore plain white boxer-briefs. (There looked to be quite a bit more of Severus in them too than he'd come to expect from Dream Snape, to whom he now might owe one imaginary Galleon. ) There was some jostling, complaining, and a rearranging of arms and legs which was no where near as romantic as Harry's recent cuddling dreams, but was sweet and reassuringly real.

" I can't decide whether to spend your remaining waking moments lecturing you about your recklessness or feeling privileged because of the trust you are showing me, Harry."

"Don't lecture me, Severus. Not like I'd trust just anyone to dose me up with experimental potions and take me to their bed just to sleep. Nope, only you, really." Harry yawned hugely. Snape's bed felt soft, warm, and entirely safe, safer somehow than Harry's own bed did, though he'd never felt unsafe there either. "This feels- so good," Harry said. He knew there was a reply somewhere but couldn't make any sense of it because in the same breath, he felt both his eyelids seized by gravity and fell about a million miles down with them.

The only Snape about after that, was the very real one holding Harry in his arms.

  

 


End file.
